


A Chance Meeting (that totally wasn't chance at all)

by Polarbaroness (MaryTheMango)



Series: Gardening Favor [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Future Relationships, Gen, Hnnngh what is writing even, Humor, Vegetables, dubious food safety but it's fine, second hand embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 15:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryTheMango/pseuds/Polarbaroness
Summary: John finally finds out who's been leaving produce at his ranch.





	A Chance Meeting (that totally wasn't chance at all)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry the tenses are all out of place. Despite being a native speaker I just don't care that much about tenses, time is meaningless anyway. 
> 
> Enjoy! There's no real shipping in this because I'm very bad at romance, but like. It's still kinda cute. 
> 
> Also sticking this in a series because maybe that'll motivate me to write more.

It starts small. A bunch of cucumbers in the mailbox at the end of the drive, a box of squash right in front of the gate.   
Nothing big, nothing too weird. It was, after all, their first week in Hope County. John hoped their mysterious benefactor would cut it out before too long, or at least show themselves.

But they don’t. And the deliveries got weirder every week.

Eventually the deliveries came in larger boxes- fresh fruits, beautiful vegetables, an entire crate full of pre-canned goods. It’s generous; Jacob is naturally suspicious, but Joseph seems elated, taking it as proof this county will be hospitable and open to their cause.

John…. Wasn’t sure what to think. It’s generous, yes..

But the boxes kept getting closer each week.

At first he thought it was a fluke; maybe one of the faithful got slothful and left a box behind? But no, he’s watched as every box is carefully lifted into the back of the plain white trucks he’d bought from a few counties over. They were doing good work (and doing it enthusiastically, which always sort of surprised him. He’d never liked manual labor himself, but he supposed that was the charisma of his brother; he always managed to get people to do what he wanted). 

No, whoever it is was getting bold. 

And when the first crate appeared on the other side of his gate, he decided it was time to call in the big guns. 

\----

 

The crate was innocuous enough- a plain wooden box, one that had “refrigerate soon! :) “ written in loopy red script on all four sides. On top was a pair of gloves- leather, it looked like.   
He waited til he heard the telltale crunch of gravel to get at it with a crowbar, intending to have it open for Jacob’s perusal. It was….harder than it looked. He wished he had one of the faithful in, actually.   
Jacob, in true older brother fashion, simply grunted when he saw how John was struggling,strong armed the crowbar out of John’s hands and popped open the crate. 

“Ah, that’s what the gloves are for..” He mumbled, looking down at the gently smoking dry ice thoughtfully before pulling the gloves on and reaching in. 

 

This shipment was different from the others; instead of vegetables, vacuum sealed cuts of meat waited, along with bottles of unprocessed milk. As he pulled produce out of the box, a note fell onto the ground, where John grabbed it.

“Gonna read it out loud, Johnny?” teased Jacob. “Use that education, see what the locals have to say.”

John huffed good naturedly, opened the letter, and began.

“Dear Neighbor,  
I noticed y’all have an awful lot of mouths to feed..Well, as is the norm around here, I’ve got a lot more produce than I know what to do with. Anyway, in this shipment is about a fourth a cow. I traded a lot of vegetables for this, so you’d better be thankful!! (Just kidding, haha) The milk is unpasteurized, but it’s delicious! Make sure to shake it up before you do anything with it. I also included some goat milk; it’s good, I promise! It’s easier to digest for some people, or so I’ve heard. Anyway, it’s unpasteurized too. 

I’ve been rambling on too much! Time’s a wastin, duty calls and all that. We’ll deliver again next week. I hope everything’s alright, food wise! If not, just leave a note and I’ll up the shipments. ;)

Your friend,

The Produce Fairy”.

By the time he was finished, everything was unpacked and sorted in the back of the truck. Jacob nudged the crate to the side, motioned for John to hop in, and drove the short way up to the ranch.

\---  
Half an hour later, after everything was packed away in its proper place, John and Jacob sat in the living room, a bottle of beer in their hands, and discussed security.   
“It should’ve been done before,” Jacob argued. “Sure, this...person meant well, but what if someone didn’t? We could get some of the faithful down and patrolling the area.”

John scoffed. “I don’t think we need to go that far..A camera should be sufficient for now. Besides, it’ll look suspicious if we suddenly have guards. “

Jacob sighed but nodded begrudgingly. “I suppose so. Well, I’ll get them installed soon, then.” He stood and clapped John on the shoulder, grunting what might’ve been a farewell as he left.

 

\--  
A week later, and John is… not nervous. Anticipatory, perhaps. The cameras have been installed and tested- they’re even the fancy kind you can monitor with a smartphone, the top of the line shit Joseph calls a “symptom of a dying world”,but John just calls convenient. 

He’s sitting in his living room when it beeps, indicating movement, and he’s out in a flash, chucking on his airplane pattern robe as he sneaks out the door. 

It’s dark as he walks down the driveway; in his haste he forgot a flashlight. Thankfully, the moon is sufficient light to guide him; the path along his driveway had just been tidied the other day, and he was at no risk of tripping. 

Eventually he grows close enough to hear the sound of grunting and grins. John slows down enough to conceal his footsteps, heart beating faster in anticipation as he pats at the knife in his pocket. Even if they meant him harm, he was confident he’d be able to get the drop on them.

As he got closer, he was able to make out some more details. Whoever it was was standing in front of the bed of a large truck, gradually sliding the crates closer. They stood favoring one leg, creating a jaunty look he couldn’t help but admire. 

Ever dramatic, he cleared his throat. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He watched, amused, as the figure jumped and spun around, grasping their chest. 

A whispered “Aw fuck” reached John’s ears and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he opened the gate, looking the figure over.

It was a woman, someone he’d seen at the post office once or twice. She’d smiled, tight lipped, as he held the door open for her, avoiding eye contact and rushing out, a german shepherd following close behind her. He hadn’t learned her name; a pity, really. Calling her name would’ve upped the drama considerably, and the Lord knows he loved some drama. 

“So you’re the one who’s been leaving gifts… The Flock- and the Father, of course- are all very thankful. “ He continued talking, standing by the open gate, making his posture as friendly and open as possible. 

“Uh… yeah. No problem. Look… I’m sorry, uh, picking your gate was a one time thing, I just.. This one crate was really heavy and I figured if I got it closer it’d be easier for both of us, and… y’know… it was perishable stuff…” She muttered, turning so red he could see it even in the dim moonlight.

“...You picked my lock? You are aware that's breaking and entering?” He grinned, crossing his arms over his chest as he shifted his weight to lean on the fence.

“Y-eeeees?? Oh god, that’s right, you’re the lawyer guy, oh shit. Uh. Is there any way I could convince you to forget this happened?”

John found himself genuinely laughing for the first time in months. Usually, he found fumbling interactions funny enough, watching people trip over themselves in an attempt to kiss ass or backtrack, to cover their asses. It stoked the schadenfreude inside him, knowing they'd just talk themselves deeper into the hole they'd dug.

This woman, however, was just genuinely trying to help, even if it was in a suspicious manner. He almost found it cute, in a way, the way she tried to justify herself.

John, well trained in listening to the rambling confessions of his former clients, tuned back in when she seemed to wrap up.   
“Look, I'm really sorry..I’m just…..really bad at talking. And human interaction. This is easier.”

He raised an eyebrow, uncrossing his arms and leaning towards her.

 

“...Lifting a crate off a truck by yourself is easier than talking to someone?”

John understood social anxiety- he had suffered from it during college, eventually leading to his unsober lifestyle- but he couldn't help but feel bemused. How had she survived?

“Yeah, sounds about right..” She rocked awkwardly back and forth on the balls of her feet, casting glances behind her as if looking for an escape route. 

“Well, how about next time, you call ahead? I can have people down to help you.” He offered- quite generously,he thought. 

“Ah… that won't be necessary. I'm uh. Just not cut out for this whole….people thing. Kinda why I moved out here.” Mags replied with a shake of her head. 

“Well then.. as much as Eden's Gate appreciates your generosity, I have one last favor to ask you-”

“Yeah, I'm happy to help, what's up?” She jumped in, almost too eagerly as she searched for an escape from this conversation. 

“...My brother-Jacob- is extremely paranoid. In fact, he was going to start camping out to catch you. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind if we- I - could come to your place instead to pick up your supplies, to alleviate his concerns.”

Mags thought for a bit, looking him up and down and deeming him not a threat. “....Sure, why not. Hell of a lot easier than sneaking around at night. I can just leave them outside my gate?” She offered, smiling tentatively. 

John nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

They stood for a while, neither knowing what to say, before Mags broke the silence with a short cough. 

“Well, I'd better...give you my address, huh? Here- a business card. It's. It's mostly current, except the phone number. I don't have one yet. Or, well, I did, but it's at the bottom of a river somewhere, so calling it isn't gonna do you much good.”

She stepped forward after pulling a card out of her breast pocket, handing it to him and quickly recoiling like he'd explode if she touched him. 

“...So… yeah. Guess I'll just go, then?”

He nodded at her, smiling gently as he played with the business card in his hands. 

“Goodnight….” John paused, squinting at the business card in the low light. “...Mags?”

“Yeah, that's me. Gnight, Mr. Seed.”

“John.” He corrected instinctively, pocketing the card as she turned away.

“..ok, gnight, John. See ya next Saturday.”

As she peeled out of his driveway in possibly the shittiest little truck he'd ever seen, he couldn't help but smile.

Hope County truly was an interesting place; he couldn't wait to dig his fingers in and find out what else awaited him.


End file.
